


Tumblr Collected Works (SFW)

by TheRoseCladDemonDoctor



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseCladDemonDoctor/pseuds/TheRoseCladDemonDoctor
Summary: A series of Safe-For-Work writings from my Tumblr account, backed up here in case anyone wants easier access to them. All notes are going to be the initial text from the Tumblr posts.





	1. Alucard vs. Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the little Alucard fighting a Shadowrun dragon that I posted about earlier. Just a short little bit of imaginative what-if scenario, nothing too big. Hope you all enjoy!

Alucard wasn’t quite sure he’d heard that right. A dragon. A fucking… Dragon.

Sighted over Ypres, Belgium, it had caused a significant amount of destruction, burning away nearly half of the city and killing fifteen thousand people before being chased away by a joint squadron of the Belgian and French Air Forces. They had wounded the beast, hitting it nearly a dozen times with missiles, but nobody was sure to what extent they had hurt it.

It disappeared off radar shortly after the engagement, but the Hellsing Organization, with the assistance of Her Majesty’s government, were contacted to hunt it down.

The Royal Air Force begrudgingly offered their assistance, in the form of a C-130 cargo plane, aerial reconnaissance to track down the dragon, and a special weapon gifted from their contacts in the United States.

It hadn’t taken terribly long to track down the dragon again. It had resurfaced in eastern Belgium, terrorizing Brussels. The Royal Air Force cargo plane delivered him as close as possible to the site of the dragon’s attack. He could see it already.

A massive, gold-colored beast of prey, easily the size of the cargo plane in which he strode into battle. Talons and scales that glinted in the light of the fires from the city below. Two sets of thick legs and a pair of incredible wings. A wyvern.

Flames flickered around its maw before it spat out another long stream of green fire, burning so hot that even from a dozen kilometers away, the vampire could feel its warmth on his skin.

At the sound of the cargo plane’s turboprop engines, the dragon turned its head. Alucard grinned wildly, eager to do battle with such an awesomely powerful creature. He laughed, stepping back into the cargo hold.

“Nothing more than a canary!” The crew of the cargo plane were visibly distressed by the situation, more so by his reaction. Alucard sauntered over to the plane’s cargo, ripping off the tarpaulin with gusto.

Strapped to the floor of the cargo plane was a GAU-8 Avenger, a car-sized, rotary-barreled cannon chambered for the same ammo that would later see use in the main weapon of Miss Seras Victoria. It had been specially reconfigured with a handle and trigger, sized for human hands.

Alucard took a deep breath.

“Releasing Control Art Restriction Systems… 3… 2… 1… “

The dragon roared, spitting fire. It was just slightly off target, the flames going wide and scorching the tail of the cargo plane. Alucard gritted his teeth at the heat, as it blistered and burned his skin.

“Approval of situation A recognized; commencing the Cromwell Invocation.”

The dragon opened its mouth, and he could see the glow of the flames deep in its maw as it prepared to breathe again.

“Ability restrictions lifted for limited use until the enemy has been rendered silent.”

Eyes erupted from the black of Alucard’s cloak, and a colossal tendril of darkness wrapped around the heft of the GAU-8 to his side. With little effort, he hefted the enormous gun to his shoulder. At the sight of this, the human crew of the cargo plane, very quickly, sequestered themselves away in the cockpit. Alucard took aim as the dragon began making its way in chase of the C-130.

“Why hide, humans? Doesn’t anybody want to see Sylvester kill Tweety-bird?”

The vampire squeezed his trigger.

Even with his immense strength, heels dug into the deck of the cargo plane, the recoil was immense. The gun issued an incredible, graunching roar as it spat forth explosive death at 4000 rounds per minute. The No-Life King found himself inching backward, slowly, by the force of the recoil.

Hundred of rounds went wide, slamming into the ground and buildings of the city of Brussels. Hundreds of other rounds found their target.

The dragon screamed in agony, a blisteringly loud roar that could be heard even over the din of the cannonfire. Dozens of small explosions erupted along its body and wings, bringing forth a spray of fire, shrapnel, and gore as the dragon’s left wing was torn from its body, falling to the ground like a crumpled piece of paper. The dragon followed suit, dropping ten thousand feet and slamming into the upper stories of the Proximus Towers.

The vampire, knowing his job remained incomplete, set off at a run off the ramp of the cargo plane, leaping to the earth below and bringing his newfound toy with him.

He didn’t particularly care who saw him. The Brussels citizenry were already in an uproar as their city burned, and everyone who glimpsed the black-coat-clad man walking at the forefront of a shadowy cloud merely turned and fled.

The walk to Proximus Tower 1 was mostly quiet. The dragon, grievously wounded, growled in pain, letting out a weakened roar as it gazed down from its new steel-and-glass bed and saw the vampire Alucard.

He chuckled ominously. “What’s wrong, Tweety? Swatted out of the sky by a puddy tat?”

Alucard raised the godly gun and fired another burst, ripping into the dragon’s chest and stomach. He was met by a flash of heat that seared his skin, melting his form and the gun he held in his hand. The dragon stopped after only a few seconds, satisfied that its attacker would die along with it.

The vampire reformed slowly, gazing forlornly at the melted remnants of the gun that shot down a dragon. So much for that piece of glorious artillery.

He began to run up the side of the building, his destination; the hole in which the dragon laid. He wanted to ensure it was dead.

However, upon his arrival, there was no dragon to be found.

Instead, at the center of its carnage was a tall, lanky, olive-skinned woman, missing an arm at the shoulder and with countless bullet wounds riddling her stomach. He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Disappointing. A dragon, yet not a dragon. A human, yet not a human. You’re nothing more than a common pyromaniac.”

She let out a weakened growl, baring sharp teeth despite her human form. She bore a slight Flemish accent.

“You… disgust me, vampire, demon of the night. I am a majestic being! I am a proud being! Far greater than you and the pathetic humans you so willingly defend.” She began to struggle to her feet. “Filthy, arrogant humans. Filthy, arrogant vampires. I wanted to assert my dominance. To show all of you pathetic creatures who would really rule this world.”

The vampire smirked, his voice deepening. “Pathetic? You’re just a common thug with wings.” He extended his arm, bringing out the heavy, .454 Casull handgun he favored in combat. He aimed at the dragon-turned-human’s head. “Any last words, canary?”

She growled again. “My… My NAME IS-”

Her words were cut short. He’d fired a shot through her head, splitting her skull in two and sending spray of blood and bone to the wreckage behind her.

“Oops… My finger slipped.” As he holstered the gun and stepped over what remained of the dragon’s corpse, he turned to face it. “I have no respect for wanton killers like you.”

The vampire flipped open his flip phone, dialing the Hellsing Manor, with Integra’s extension. He could make his way home now. He knew she would have a shitload of paperwork to fill out.


	2. Hellsing Jealousy Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These were surprisingly tough to write, these are headcanons I hadn’t really thought of before today. Hope you enjoy!

Alucard:

Is probably the most overtly, aggressively jealous of the Hellsing members. If he feels like his S/O is looking elsewhere, true or not, he’ll be sure to reassert himself to them. Especially possessive, frequently reminds his S/O that they are his, and he’s theirs, even if this causes confusion when they don’t understand he’s jealous.

Integra:

Very passive-aggressive. Would probably order extra surveillance on her S/O, just to keep eyes on them, but nothing too intrusive. However, she’d probably realize when she’s gone too far and would have the state of mind to sit her S/O down and explain her feelings to try and get a grasp of how they really feel.

Seras:

Quiet, sad. Likely has constant thoughts that her S/O changed their minds about being with her, not wanting to be with a vampire that could kill them so easily. Probably constantly worried about accidentally doing something that would scare away her S/O, so every time she has to drink blood or fight, she’d be desperate to ensure that they’re somewhere they can’t see her. Wouldn’t confront her partner or talk about how she feels, instead she would probably internalize everything excessively.

Walter:

His expression of jealousy depends on who he feels his partner is interested in. If he feels he’s losing his partner to a fellow human, he would likely express a similar internalized anxiety to Seras; feeling that his partner wants someone younger than him, that they’re not really interested in someone as old as he is, whether it’s true or not. If he feels like he’s losing them to a being such as Alucard, he would become very aggressive and competitive, deadset on besting this being in a fight to prove to his S/O that he’s really the one for them, not anyone else.

Pip:

Likely highly disappointed if he feels like his partner is looking to someone else. Would try very hard to keep them with him, including all sorts of romantic gestures that would seem out-of-nowhere to his S/O who’s clueless of his feelings. He fully well understands that things like this happen, but he really doesn’t want to lose his S/O, so he’ll do everything in his power to prove his love to them in the hopes they won’t leave.


	3. Claude Grey (OC) x Hans Günsche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm here to Feng Shui your blog to ask you for some fluff headcanons for visiting the theme park with The Captain? :) "

OKAY, THIS BOY, THE PUREST GUY EVER IN A THEME PARK! He’s been so sequestered away from the world for the past few decades that he’s never had the opportunity to visit one!

Imagine his quiet awe at all the lights, the sights, the smells, the sounds. You can’t see it in his face but you can feel it in his eyes. He’s so excited to be there, it’s unreal. At first, the sheer number of people kind of overwhelm him, but having you nearby helps calm him down and stay relaxed.

Those rigged games that are always super hard to win and get a prize from? No problem for the Captain. You would be walking away with armfuls of stuffed animals if you let this guy play these games.

On the flip side, imagine winning a stuffed animal for him! The look in his eyes when you win him a giant stuffed bear or dog, a huge stuffed animal nearly as big as he is. Of course he doesn’t say anything, but you can just FEEL him thinking “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CARRY THIS?!”

The Captain is always slightly disappointed by the thrill rides. Never because they’re not thrilling, but because every single thrill ride is too short for him. The most massive rollercoasters are too short for the poor man, so expect to be riding a single ride half a dozen times or more until he’s decided he wants to move on.

Captain is in love with the food, no matter how unhealthy it may be. Fried foods, funnel cakes, hot dogs, cotton candy, it doesn’t matter to him as he continuously eats between rides.

No matter how many times you’ve taken him to a theme park, every visit is like the first visit in terms of his awe and love of all of the park around him. At least once a week you’d have to visit, that’s how much he loves it.

Imagine spending the entire day there, long enough that both of you are fully exhausted when you finally leave, and the sleepy puppy that is the Captain is struggling to keep his eyes open while up to his neck in stuffed animals that form that day’s haul of fluffiness.


	4. Jealous!Anderson x Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey I mean if you offer it, I'm happy about any Anderson scenario. SFW or NSFW whatever you prefer. But only if you want to write it haha. :D "
> 
> Hey! Thank you for sending this ask, and for working out specifics with me! This scenario went a bit longer than I’d expected, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is going to be buried under a cut, not because it’s NSFW, but because there’s themes of jealousy and a Yandere!Anderson, which might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Please heed the warning if you’re sensitive to stuff like this.

Anderson loved his partner. They were sweet, wonderful with the children of the orphanage, their knowledge of the Bible nearly rivalled his own. That was why he worried about them constantly.

Not about their safety, oh no. The orphanage sat comfortably near the Vatican, one of the most heavily-defended locations in the world. His partner’s safety would be guaranteed.

No, what worried him was losing them to someone else.

The priest was getting on in age, that much was true. Though his regeneration kept him looking younger, he was no longer the energetic youth he used to be. Perhaps they’d want someone their age, who would be able to keep up with them when he no longer could. Maybe they’d be looking for someone who didn’t kill for the Vatican, who wasn’t such a dangerous individual.

These thoughts troubled him constantly, drawing his mind away from more immediate tasks. More than once had he been in the middle of a mission, a thousand miles away from the Vatican, and his thoughts had gotten consumed with the thought of his beloved being cradled in someone else’s arms, his own self all but forgotten in his absence.

Anderson prayed for guidance, all the time. He prayed more for this than he’d prayed for anything else in his life. Eyes filled with tears, he’d walk the gardens of the orphanage, or standing behind the pulpit after mass, or seated on his bed, hands clenched together tight enough to rip his gloves, chanting the same prayer under his breath. He’d ask for God’s grace and guiding hand to lead him through these trying times, to find the faith in his partner he so desperately needed. It never seemed to really help, these thoughts were always on his mind.

He never told his partner how he felt, how worried he was that he’d lose them. God’s Assassin, the Angel Dust, the Regenerator, could not summon up the courage to talk through this with his partner.

Things got worse when the new student priest arrived. He was their age, far more beautiful than Anderson. Clean-shaven, hair as red as a cherry. His voice was even more beautiful.

And he was getting entirely too close to them.

It started innocently enough. The occasional lingering glance from the scarlet-haired priest, lasting just a little too long when Anderson’s partner walked away. Then came the gifts, anonymous presents of flowers. They assumed the gifts were from Anderson, but the priest knew the truth.

Then it was the talking, the offers of dinner. They were too innocent to know what the scarlet-haired priest was alluding to, they were far too naive to think he meant anything other than an innocuous lunch.

The final straw for Anderson was the kiss. The red-haired priest, tired of their naivety, stole a kiss in the garden at dusk. Anderson had seen through the window of his room. His partner backed away, flustered, excused themselves before fleeing into the building. That would not happen again. He’d make sure of it.

His partner was his, nobody else’s.

Just as quickly as the cherry-haired priest had arrived, he’d vanished. Bishop Maxwell explained, in the company of Anderson and his partner, that the young student priest had been excommunicated and exiled from the Vatican, though he was remarkable scarce on details. He didn’t relent anything further when pressed for why the priest was excommunicated.

But Anderson knew the truth.

In the middle of the night, Anderson and Maxwell, accompanied by a small cadre of Iscariot guards, had entered the young priest’s room. Maxwell read him the charges, a lengthy list of pure lies, enumerating sins ranging from selling indulgences, to heresy, to the sin of fornication. The young priest dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness, begging the church officials to see that these charges were untrue. But they didn’t listen.

Of course, the guards didn’t know the truth, but Maxwell did. Maxwell, Anderson’s closest confidant, the only one who knew how Anderson felt about his partner. The Bishop understood entirely, and was willing to grant this favor to his old friend.

In the darkest hour of the night, they’d transported the priest to a bridge, overlooking the deepest body of water near the Vatican. Though bound and gagged, the priest screamed, terrified. They’d tied his legs to a concrete block. Anderson sighed, praying. Praying for the young priest’s soul to find salvation in the afterlife, mostly, before burying one of his bayonets in the cherry-haired priest’s chest.

The terrified student priest grew silent, and they threw his body into the river as though it were garbage to be dumped. Anderson cleaned his blades as the Iscariot members cleaned up the blood.

He’d do it again, if he had to. Nobody was going to be with his partner but him.

Nobody.


	5. Claude Grey (OC) x Pip Bernadotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Claude x Pip Fluff Headcanons please! "
> 
> This made me super happy to write. I’m so glad you like Claude enough to request stuff for him and Pip!

If Claude and Pip were together, Claude would absolutely be all about his new boyfriend all the time. Even during their patrol duties in the Manor, Claude would practically beg Integra to schedule his patrols in conjunction with Pip’s. If one or the other has to be sent out on a mission, Claude volunteers to tag along for “support” (really he just wants to protect the perfectly-capable Pip).

Notably, Seras thinks it’s absolutely adorable how hard Claude was crushing on Pip when they first met, and acts sort of like an older sister with regards to their relationship. Integra’s fascinated by their reciprocal attraction, but supports it both because she (to other people) thinks that kind of comradery will do wonders for their fighting capacity, and because she (privately) is glad to see the blonde soldier happy because she still blames herself for the circumstances leading to his family’s demise.

Pip is completely unaccustomed to this kind of attention from anybody. It would definitely take some getting used to, as he’s never had experience with somebody who so eagerly fawns over him and wants to be with him every minute of the day. It flatters him tremendously, he’s just not used to it.

It’s also Claude’s first relationship with anyone, even at almost 22 years old, so he’s super awkward all the time. He’s always taking pictures with or of Monsieur Bernadotte and showing them to people.

I headcanon that it wouldn’t be Pip’s first relationship, but would certainly be his first one with another guy. He’s every bit as out of his element as Claude is, but he tries to hide his awkwardness by being super smooth and making it seem like he’s always got everything under control, with his suave Frenchness. More than once he’d have to turn away to hide his blushes as Claude hits him with a compliment out of nowhere.

They’d be very good at balancing each other out. Pip’s the more realistic, worldly, well-traveled, boisterous, experienced mercenary with unequalled skill in wordplay and talking to his partners. Claude’s the fairly sheltered, quiet, anxious, nervous vampire-hunting soldier who can see a broad-strokes version of the future.

Claude is O B S E S S E D with Pip’s hair. He’s always playing with it, running his fingers through it, even gently toying with Pip’s braid when they’re in the hallway together. Claude always asks the mercenary to teach him how to braid his own hair, and offers to braid it for Pip after he learns how.

Kisses between the two are even more awkward than their normal interactions. Claude is a full head shorter than Pip, so the mercenary always has to lean down to some degree if Claude’s gonna kiss him or vice-versa.

Our short little soldier is also incredibly protective of Pip. Since Claude can see some future events, anything that has a possibility of leading to Pip’s harm means he’ll do anything he can to prevent it from happening. Pip doesn’t really understand this for the first couple of months, so he’s frequently confused when, before being sent on an otherwise-routine mission, he’s getting accompanied by Claude and a pair of soldiers from his squadron.

They’re also the perfect teachers for each other. Pip teaches Claude French, and all sorts of information about locales and cultures from across the world that he’s never been able to experience. Claude teaches the mercenary more simple things like cooking, how to fight supernatural creatures, and all sorts of little known facts about mythological beings that he only knows because Hellsing’s had to deal with them in the past.


	6. Hellsing Writer-Insert Compilation, my contribution

I’m not gonna lie, I screamed. One minute I was there, the next I wasn’t. Pulled away from my computer, from the episode of Monk I was watching on TV. Away from reading my friend Medz’s post on Tumblr. It all happened so fast.

The next thing I remembered was the fall. Just a couple of feet, but I hit the ground and smacked my head on the ground.

“Und zat’s vhen I said… Vhat ze hell?!”

I groaned, rubbing my head, now complete with a splitting pain in it. I didn’t even want to open my eyes.

That’s when I smelled the food. The reeking stench of blood. I heard the German accents around me and the clicking of numerous guns that were doubtlessly pointed at me. I let out a ragged sigh. A chair scraped across the floor somewhere to my left.

“Who ze hell are you, und how did you get here?”

“Buddy…” I groaned, rubbing my head. “I’m asking myself the same question right now.”

I tried to open my eyes. The light was blinding at first, aggravating my headache further. I sat up, slowly. Still in my pajamas. But of course. Then I looked around me.

A massive dining table, lined on all sides by soldiers in the middle of eating. Eating blood, by the looks of it. Their uniforms… Oh… So that’s where I was. Hellsing.

And I was there. With Millennium.

My survival chances dropped low enough that I’m pretty sure I could actually hear them hitting rock bottom.

I turned to my right, standing up and gently pushing the long barrel of the Mauser pistol out of my face.

“Easy there, Tall Dark and Handsome.” I gave the werewolf a smirk. “At least buy me dinner before you threaten to kill me.” I was pretty sure that just pissed him off. Oh well. Worth a shot before I get eaten.

I turned to my left, to face the standing figure of the Major, face stained with barbecue sauce from the ribs in front of him. Heh. For once I was taller than someone.

“Look, Major, speaking fat guy to fat guy, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m no threat to you or this little outfit you got here. Far from it, y’know?”

I wasn’t exactly a smooth-talker. I just needed to keep him and his entourage from killing me long enough to figure out a way back home. Here’s hoping I could let them think I was useful enough to keep alive.


	7. Vampire!Anderson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @fatheralexanderfanderson Here’s a short little bit of writing from the perspective of Iscariot, finding out Father Anderson’s become a vampire. I certainly hope it’s to your liking!

“St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage is under attack!” ranked pretty much near the bottom on the list of things the Iscariot Operative expected to hear when he woke up this morning. Straight out of bed to hear the alert that one of the most secure locations in the Vatican had taken a hit. Nobody quite knew just what was going on.

Communications were jammed quite badly, with a thousand different calls going in and out from a thousand different operatives in a hundred different locations.

“Somebody get Maxwell on the horn!”

“Are the children safe?”

“Where’s Anderson?”

Anderson and two squads of Iscariot agents were all that had been stationed in the orphanage. Usually, that was all that would ever be needed to hold off any threats to the childrens’ safety.

Maxwell was off conversing with Section III: Matthew agents, somewhere deep in the Vatican.

Yumiko and Heinkel had been elsewhere, performing their holy duties somewhere not privy to the Iscariot rank-and-file.

The Operative and roughly a platoon of others had been sent to the Orphanage as part of a second wave of reinforcements. The first wave had assisted in evacuating the children and the Matron, as well as any surviving non-combatant personnel. All survivors from the first wave rendezvoused with his platoon, and they established a perimeter around the Orphanage.

All of the children were shuttled into vans, taken as far from St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage as they could go. The Matron had told them something about a rat infestation, the Operative couldn’t hear over the commotion inside.

God Almighty and Lord Jesus, whatever was going on inside can’t have been pretty. All security systems were down, and nobody could reach Father Anderson or any of the members of the two squads that went in with him. The Matron and a technical specialist were working to reestablish communications with inside, though she was having much more luck in this endeavor.

He didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Nobody did. Especially not the Matron. The stream of expletives coming from the smaller woman’s mouth as she worked were… Let’s just say the Operative was glad the children weren’t there to hear it.

It had taken several hours, but they were able to get some of the security cameras back up and networked again. They had been severely damaged in the attack, only four or five cameras of the original several dozen were still working. What these cameras were showing was… Not good.

The interior of the orphanage was a mess. There was blood everywhere. And… The bodies. Not a single one of the rank-and-file troops sent in with Anderson was still breathing. And as for Anderson…

Oh, Heavens above.

The red eyes. The fangs.

“Someone… Someone tell Bishop Maxwell right NOW!” It had been the Matron who spoke. She singled out someone to tell the Bishop the bad news and jumped into action, barking orders left and right. Mostly to get hammers, nails, and Bibles. The platoon-and-a-half of Iscariot agents began nailing pages above windows, doors, anywhere Anderson could conceivably exit the building.

The way the Matron talked about it, this wasn’t the first time he’s lost control and become vampirized. Something to do with his nanomachines. But this was the first time this had happened in the confines of the Orphanage.

It had taken less than half an hour to cover the windows and doors of the building. Now they just had to sit and wait. For two days.

An hour after the call had been made to Maxwell, they were informed that the Swiss Guard had been fully mobilized to secure the Pope and the College of Cardinals. The second one, which sent a chill down the spines of all present, was that the Papal Knights of the Military Order of Santo Stefano di Toscana were on standby if the situation got bad enough.

They all hoped against hope that the situation wouldn’t escalate that far. The Papal Knights were, next to Father Anderson himself, the premier vampire hunting force of the Vatican. These guys didn’t get called in unless the situation was bad enough to demand a full-fledged crusade.

But the thought of what Father Anderson could do, were he to escape the building… It would certainly call for that kind of force to put him down.

A shout came from inside. It was his voice, Anderson’s voice. Loud enough to be heard clearly even through the walls of the Orphanage.

“Children! Nothin’ tae fear from me! Come le’ me out an’ we’ll all have ae good laugh about it!” A collective shudder went through the bodies of all of the Iscariot agents present to hear that.

As the evening turned to night, they could still hear him shouting. Shouting to be let out, shouting for others to come in. And the blaspheming. They decided as a whole that Father Anderson, when he came back to his senses, could NEVER be allowed to find out the kind of things he’d been saying as a vampire. The sheer shock of it, they were sure the man’s soul couldn’t take it.

A vampire Anderson. And they had to wait and stand guard for two days.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this was going to be a long two days.


	8. Alexander Anderson x Jayce (real person)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a short little something for my friend @mind-full-of-fog-and-flowers, who’s not been having such a great day today. It’s a continuation of her contribution to @bookwormmedz‘s Hellsing thread! Hope this helps make things better!

Jayce had sat down, against the tree, praying for the safety of herself and others. There was Medz, herself… Who else ended up here? Medz and the vampire Alucard, having seen her and heard her prayers, had moved towards her. But they stopped. There was a ruffling sound, Alucard’s arm moved to block the shorter woman. Footsteps in the graveyard, behind the tree Jayce sat against.

“Kiss the son lest he be angry, an’ ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but ae little…”

“We have to go, human.” Not humans. Human. Of course she’d be left alone. But she never looked up, never stopped praying as events unfolded around her. The heavy footfalls walked beside her, and the sound of a familiar Scottish accent filled the air.

“Shame ye hae ta run, Vampire! Perhaps another time, then!”

Jayce stopped, turning to look at the source of the voice. It couldn’t be.

It was.

The heavy grey coat. Catholic clerical shirt. Giant rosary necklace and rounded glasses, mounted on a head topped by short-cut blonde hair. Alexander Anderson.

Her favorite.

She had to suppress her surprise as the priest bent forward, offering his hand in front of her. It took a moment or two of processing before she realized he wanted to help her to her feet. Jayce grasped the far-too-big hand and the Father helped her to her feet with ease.

“Ye’ve been prayin’, hae ye not?” He smiled widely, the same smile she felt he gave anyone who prayed in front of him.

“Umm… Yes, I was.”

“Fer yersel’?”

“No, Father. For my friend…s, my friends. We’re kind of stuck… Here, stuck here. It’s a long story.”

“… Ae exhort therefore, tha’, first o’ all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and givin’ o’ thanks, be made fer all men; Fer kings, and fer ae tha’ are in authority; that we may lead ae quiet an’ peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty… Amen.”

“P-pardon, Father Anderson?”

“Why that’s First Tim…” His eyes narrowed. At least, she assumed they narrowed. It was REALLY hard to tell behind those glasses. His voice darkened, quieting down just the slightest bit. “It’s First Timothy, Chapter Two, verses One through Two. Mind tellin’ me, how d’yae know my name?”

“I told you, Father Anderson, it’s a very long story.”

“Assume ae’ve got time, then.”

So she began. How she read that post on Tumblr. How she’d fallen asleep, woken up in a graveyard to the sight of her friend Medz conversing with the No-Life King himself. How she worried about any of her other friends who might have ended up in this hellscape of a world, sat against the tree, and began to pray when he arrived. She told him just enough for him to grasp the concept of how she understood his name.

The Father didn’t seem to buy much of it.

“Well, yer’ certainly nae from around here, an’ it seems yer’ tellin’ the truth about yer friends, but I dinnae buy any ae that nonsense about an… A-ni-me.” The word was foreign on his tongue. In any other context it would’ve been comical to see the six-foot-ten priest struggle with the concept.

“Ne’er the less, ye should nae be out here this late. Nae with… Things like tha’ vampire runnin’ around. Ye’d be safest with me, an’ the Vatican. Under tha protection o’ the Holy Catholic Church.”

Jayce couldn’t deny that. The offer of guaranteed safety, in the unforgiving world of Hellsing. That was an offer no smart mortal could pass up. She nodded, agreeing with Father Anderson, and followed him as he walked. She still wasn’t quite sure where they were. Somewhere in an old, old part of England, from the looks of the graves in the cemetery.

She asked why the Father was here, of all places. He mumbled quietly as they walked, something about being sent to investigate the threat of a vampire in the area, something that seemed to be confirmed by the sight of Alucard. He brought her along, meeting up with a trio of Iscariot operatives who were very confused to see him bringing an entirely new individual in tow. He explained the situation, how she was to be put under their protection until such time as she and her friends could be safely reunited and sent back wherever they came from.

He’d personally watch over her if he had to, to make sure she was safe. It was the least he could do, given her confused and uncertain circumstances.

It was a long car ride to the airport, during which Jayce and Anderson talked. A lot. About himself, herself, religion, who he was, who she was, their favorite foods. Anything to pass the time and learn more about her favorite character.

They boarded a Vatican-owned Gulfstream jet, an astoundingly luxurious (and highly ostentatious) mode of travel. It was at this point Jayce realized how sleepy she actually was. She hadn’t technically had any sleep, since she went from eyes-closed to fully-awake in the span of about a second, when she was dropped into this world.

And she slept like a baby.

When she awoke several hours later, she sat up with a powerful yawn. Her eyes still closed, Jayce expected to see the familiar sight of her bedroom. When she opened them…

“It wasn’t a dream.”

“Pardon?” Anderson sat up in his chair, evidently on the verge of dozing off himself.

“I thought I was dreaming. I’m… Still here.”

“Well ae course ye are!”

It took another several hours to land outside of Vatican City, then to ride in. There it was. St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage, the stomping grounds of Alexander Anderson and the home to a significant portion of Iscariot forces.

She stepped out of the car, marveling at the size of the building. It was so much bigger than it looked in the manga.

“This is where ye’ll be stayin’ for tha ferseeable future.” Anderson spoke as he walked. “Dinnae worry, ae’m sure ye’ll fi’ right in. Tha children’ll love ye!” He grinned, gesturing as they walked. He gave her a brief tour, cleared things up with those in charge.

Anderson was talking to Maxwell at the moment.

Jayce was sitting outside the room, looking around her. Big, brick walls. Lots of protection. Knowing that Anderson himself was scarcely a shout away.

She supposed there were worse places to be right now.


	9. Wallachia League AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a short something based on the dream I had. I’d like to call it the Wallachia League AU. Just something to test if I could make it work. Hope you all enjoy! (I’ll also reblog this in the morning since it’s so late right now).

My name is Claude Grey. It was the 22nd of April, 2032.

I had to bring her coffee. That would be the seventh time that day.

To be fair, it has been a really long day. A very long day. Her Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, had been overseeing one of the largest anti-terrorism crackdowns in half a decade.

Four werewolf dens in London’s “Full Moon District” had been raided. Producing, amongst other things, forty illegal assault weapons fully-loaded with silver ammunition, a cache of explosives, illegal drugs, illegal anti-surveillance hardware, plans of attack, stakes, crosses. Including their leader, a prodigiously-tall, silver-haired and red-eyed individual who refused to speak no matter the pressure we put on him.

I’d seen him before, both in and out of work, but I politely held my tongue at the meeting when he and his cohorts were paraded in front of the precinct. The display was all part of the farcical dog-and-pony show to make it look like the city of London, capitol of His Majesty’s great United Kingdom, actually gave two shits about the Mysticals living within her borders. Realistically speaking, these men would be quietly released in the dead of the night in about a month, sans their illegal armaments, and allowed to continue whatever they had planned so long as they don’t get caught and they don’t involve humans.

Mysticals, of course, being the name collectively assigned by the governments of the United Nations forty years ago to refer to any and all individuals who would formerly be considered supernatural. It included, amongst others, vampires, werewolves, wraiths, zombies, fae, dryads, naiads, centaurs, kappas, djinn, selkies, cyclopes, banshees, and dullahans.

The majority of normal humans don’t give a damn about any of them, or they favor the more “peaceful” species, the ones who don’t traditionally require feeding on humans.

Vampires, werewolves, and all of the more “dangerous” ones in the public eye?

They get spat on. Hated. Hunted.

Y’know, vampires and werewolves aren’t legally allowed within two kilometers of London’s city center? And that vampire nightclubs and werewolf dens are statistically four times as likely to come under surprise inspection as any other Mystical hangout? Or that murders involving only Mysticals don’t get investigated?

And it’s not just the United Kingdom, it’s the same everywhere, save for the countries further north. The U.S., Germany, South America. Russia’s the worst.

Sir Integra is more level-headed than most. All she wants to do is make sure nobody blows anything up.

So here I was, at nearly midnight, bringing coffee to a woman who’s been running off a mixture of caffeine and sheer force of will for nearly five days. The Loyal Assistant Watchdog to His Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper. That’s what they call me. I feel some of the respect people reserve for Sir Integra got rubbed off on me by association.

I set the cup down on her desk, keeping a cup in my own hands. I had offered to stay behind to fill out paperwork as usual, so my day was running just as long as her own.

“Here you are, Sir. Yemeni, two-“ I started, but she interrupted me.

“Yes, yes, two sugars, two spoons of cream, like always. Thank you, Mr. Grey.”

I nodded dutifully. “Sorry for the interruption, sir. I’ll get back to work.”

And I had to. There were three three-inch-thick stacks of paperwork on my desk, only half of which had actually been completed. It was all the same paperwork, to be filled in triplicate. One hand-filled copy to be kept on-site, one hand-filled copy to be sent out to His Majesty’s government, and one hand-filled copy to be sent to the headquarters of the Royal Mail Service to be copied and distributed nationwide to all departments of the Royal Counter Mystical Terrorism Service.

I normally listened to music when I had this much work to do, but I knew Sir Integra would take offense to that. Especially seeing as it was just us here, that evening. Any movement I made out of line would be objected to, and I hoped for a promotion in the future, so I couldn’t afford to have any blemishes on my record.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled the thin, encased rectangle from my pocket, as slyly as possible, to see who’s bothering me. The name on the screen catches my eye.

“Evangeline.”

“Hm?” Sir Integra looked up from her desk. I realized I said the name out loud. “What was that, Mr. Grey?”

“It’s a phone call, sir. My, uhhh… My girlfriend. I have to take this.”

She visibly grimaced. “Fine, Mr. Grey. But I’ll need you to return to work the second you’re done, understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

I made my way out into the precinct’s hallway, away from prying ears. I answered the call, keeping my voice low.

“Look, I’ll have to make it quick. Now what reason could you possibly have for calling me right now?”

“Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend, Claude?” Her tone of voice was dripping with sarcasm. Her tendency to find things like that out was starting to make me nervous.

“Okay, ‘Evangeline,’ what’s wrong?”

She giggled softly behind the phone. “I just wanted to say sorry ahead of time, Claudey-waudey~!”

My eyes went wide. I growled into the phone. “The fuck did you do?!”

“You’ll find out soon enough~!” Her singsong-y voice was driving me insane. “I am sorry about all that paperwork, though.”

“Ugh.” I hung up. The second I did, Sir Integra called me back into her office.

Plastered all over the television was news about an attack.

God DAMMIT.

The Wallachian League, as they called themselves. The newest radical pro-vampire group in the country. They’d made themselves a nuisance for the past couple of years. Graffiti, hacking attempts, distributing their radical fliers amongst the various groups in London and the rest of the UK. Never had they escalated this far.

A flaming dump truck had been sent into a house in Yorkshire. Not just any house, but the house of a Member of Parliament who was vocally anti-Mystical. The MP and his wife and children had burned alive in their beds.

“The Wallachian League is claiming full responsibility for this.” Integra talked after minutes of silence. I sigh softly.

“They say their leader is Dracula himself.”

“That’s what every vampire group claims. First it was the Tepes Union, then it was the Fangs of Freedom, then it was Count-down to Equality, the ‘Royal Vampiric Rebels,’ even the… Ugh… Vita-Vegan-Vampires. More likely it’s just some overblown narcissistic vampire who sees himself as Drac’s gift to the world.”

Things were real quiet. For about two weeks.

Then we got the news. Somehow, someone had gotten a hold of information that the Wallachian League was planning to bomb one or more of the trains leading into one of the U.K.’s power plants. Nobody was sure which one. If it was one of the coal or biomass trains, it would start one hell of a big fire. If it was one of the nuclear trains… I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be.

I snuck away to the alley behind the precinct. I had a phone call to make.

“Evangeline?” I spoke into the phone.

“Finally worried, Claudey-waudey~?”

“I know you’ve all been talking about this, but you’re actually going to go through with it?”

Her voice suddenly became fully serious. The most serious I’ve ever heard her.

“Why wouldn’t we? You know we’ve got a message to send to them. Vampires aren’t going to let humans kick us around any longer.”

“No, it’s not that at all. Look, I know you and Lucy can hold your own, just… Please be careful, okay?”

“The job’s done. We set it up a while ago. I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you.”

“Wh… Fuck you say?”

“’Lucy’ found out earlier. Peregrin told us. The Royals have been monitoring all communication in and out of the Service for a long time. They know the both of you have been keeping the heat off of us.”

“They… They know I’ve been helping you?”

A different voice came onto the phone. Much deeper, far more serious.

“Yes. We’ve already extracted Peregrin from Nottinghamshire earlier today. We’re coming to get you. It’s not safe there anymore. Don’t walk. Run.”

I could hear shouting from inside the precinct. It seemed my phone call at such an inopportune time confirmed their suspicions. I had to go.

My car wasn’t far away, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. Parked in the small car park under the precinct, they’d lock it down before I could even get in the vehicle. I had to beat a retreat on foot.

Well, not really a retreat.

The moment those same shouting voices exited the building, I broke into a sprint. The fastest, nastiest sprint I’ve ever managed in my life. Sir Integra’s voice broke out amongst the crowd.

“Grey!” Gunshots punctuated her words. “Grey, you traitorous bastard!” More gunshots. “Don’t you run!”

That wasn’t like her. My “betrayal” had to have seriously pissed her off for the normally-calm woman to just start shooting.

I suddenly felt a force, like somebody had kicked me in the back, shoving me to the ground. It only stalled me for a second before I was back up and moving again.

Dodge to the left, around the bollards and cars, under signs and ladders. Bob here, weave there. Use pedestrians as cover. They’re British, they’re not going to try and stop me.

Every so often I had to stop and let out a few vicious coughs, which I attributed to just being so unaccustomed to moving that fast for any real length of time.

And I swear, I had to have set some sort of record for on-foot speed. There’s no way I didn’t. Sticking to the back alleyways, I managed to get out of Central London in just a few minutes, still trying to hide from the authorities. But it was getting harder to move, I just couldn’t catch my breath. As I stopped behind a skip, somewhere in one of London’s more run-down areas, I figured out why.

Investigating the strange, warm wetness running down my back, I moved my hand there. A thick, viscous wetness.

“Oh ssssssshhhhfuck…”

When my hand ran up, and felt the sources, I had to bite back a scream as immense pain shot through my body.

“No… No, no, no… Nonononofucknonono…”

Three bullet holes. One perfectly on the right side of my body. Right in my lung. The others in random spots in my back. They had scarcely missed my spine, but who knows what poor organs they had pierced. No exit wounds. I started coughing again, mixed with a choked sob or two.

I couldn’t die here. I just couldn’t. But I also couldn’t risk moving, not with a bullet in my lung and two more god-knows-where.

More footsteps. Coming closer. There was a soft gasp from a very familiar voice, and a low grunt from another familiar voice.

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Hey, Evan… Sorry. Hey, Seras. Hey, Alucard. I got, uhh… I got a bit messed up, I’m sorry to say.” I let out a pained chuckle. It hurt to laugh.

To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t hear what they talked about as they conversed amongst themselves. I could vaguely hear Seras’ question, but heard it better once she grabbed my shoulders to demand my attention.

“I said…” She repeated. “Are. You. A virgin?”

“What? Oh…” I grumbled softly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m scarce two years out of uni. Had no time for any of that nonsense.”

I couldn’t really think straight at the time. Blood loss will do that to a person.

Alucard piped up, his baritone voice grabbing my attention more easily.

“It seems you have a choice, then…” He spoke. “Death. Or undeath.”

Looking up at him, I spoke back. “Something about a Robert Frost poem, right? Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less traveled, that’s made all the difference?” I pushed my cracked glasses up on my nose. “I’ll take the road less traveled if that means I get to wake up again, tomorrow.”

The decision made, they nodded. I felt a pair of glove-covered hands grasp my head and neck, watched through the corner of my eye as Seras opened her fang-filled maw. The last thing I remembered of that day was the sensation of her fangs clamping down on my neck.

But I woke up again, the next night.


	10. Anderson and Alucard Switch Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @gingerkyuketsuki Here’s what I wrote for what you intended to be a shitpost! I may have written way too much but I don’t care! :D

“You want me to what?”

Alucard thought he misunderstood. He had to have misheard, misinterpreted what his master was telling him. There was absolutely, certainly, 110% no way that she had just said that to him.

“I said, I’ve agreed to a proposal from the Iscariot organization. For the next week, you and the Father, Alexander Anderson, are going to be changing places.”

“And what, if I might ask, is the purpose of this… Endeavour?”

Sir Integra pushed up her glasses, picking up the sheaf of papers in front of her, clearly emblazoned with the wax seal of the Vatican. “It’s to…”

She let out an aggravated sigh. “To ‘teach mutual respect amongst the organizations, to allow our various operatives…’”

She pointed at Alucard. “’To experience each others’ roles and duties so that they may form a more proper understanding and mutual deference, for the sake of cooperation in the future.’”

The disgust emanating from his master was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Integra continued.

“These come signed and sealed from Pope Francis himself, signed in duplicate by Bishop Enrico Maxwell, and counter-signed and sealed by Queen Elizabeth and Sir Irons. Like it or not, you’re participating in this. You’ve been sworn in absentia that you are not to harm a single Iscariot operative. Anderson has been sworn to the same.”

Alucard moved to complain, but decided against it. He grinned, prompting a concerned look from Integra.

This could be fun.

 

It was not fun. Alucard found himself assuming not just Anderson’s roles, but his dress. He was forced into the same godawful priest’s uniform-jacket combo that the Paladin wore. All of the clothes had been sized for Anderson, so they fit, but barely. The waistline was entirely too big and the elbows on the jacket chafed. And he was told his hat had to stay at the Manor! The No-Life King, nearly 600 years old, most powerful being in the world, wasn’t even allowed to have his favorite hat as he assumed the priest’s position for a week.

And the duties he had… It wasn’t just the fun stuff, killing heretics and pagans in the name of the Holy Catholic Church.

Alucard also had to assist in running the day-to-day of St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage, including balancing finances, cleaning if necessary, and taking care of the orphans.

The orphans.

Alucard had been there for less than a day before the children began getting on his nerves. The adolescents were less irritating. They didn’t know the specifics of this exchange program, but they understood that this tall, raven-haired man was supposed to be Anderson’s replacement for a week, and they treated him with a mixture of respect for his priestly position, and fear because he’s a nearly seven-foot tall, quiet man whose eyes are just slightly off. He had a modicum of respect for the adolescent orphans, since they stayed out of his way.

But the younger children… The vampire prided himself, deservedly or not, on his patience. He didn’t typically have a problem with children. But these ones, they could certainly try his patience.

The first day, the main problem was their constant pestering. “Whewe’s Fathew Andewson?”

“Why are you so tall? Do you play basketball??”

“Your eyes are pretty! But scary!”

“The new priest scares me!”

“Can I have a piggyback ride?”

“I found this doggie out in the garden, can I keep it?” A raccoon, it was a fucking raccoon, no of course you can’t keep it!

The next couple of days, what irritated him was the childrens’ tendency to get into EVERYTHING.

Timothy somehow got a marble stuck in his nose. Nisha had been playing with rubberbands and had accidentally knocked over a vase, breaking it. Lilith (he savored the irony of an orphan in a Catholic orphanage bearing the name Lilith) had been playing with matches again (AGAIN?!) and started a small but manageable fire. Jack had been playing “army men” again and had gotten into an altercation with three other children who pretty much took care of the problem themselves.

All of which he had been forced to deal with.

The children also had a habit of pulling at the vampire’s hair, attempting to climb up his arms, requesting more piggyback rides because he was so tall and they could see everything from his shoulders!

Some of the more clueless adolescents had challenged him to a game of basketball, but wisely backed down when Alucard stood to his full height and could nearly reach the rim without jumping.

And the Orphanage’s finances! By the grace of whatever higher power might exist, Alucard swore he had never seen a more chaotic budget in his unlife. Constant fees for caterers, cleanup, salaries, maintenance, clothing budgets, medical bills, supply fees, the ASTOUNDING electricity and water bills, the list went on. And he hadn’t the slightest damn clue what he was doing, trying to go over that budget.

It was almost a relief to hear, four days into the exchange program, that he would be sent into the deepest part of the American South, under the supervision of agents Yumiko and Heinkel, to hunt down a group who attacked a cathedral. At least now Alucard could take out several days of pent-up frustration on whatever poor unfortunate souls made the mistake of pissing off the Catholic church.

Alucard could only hope the Paladin was having as awful a time himself.

 

He would’ve been very disappointed.

Sure, it was true that the Regenerator hated having to work alongside the Protestant Anglican Church who, under literally any other circumstances, would’ve been his sworn enemy. Certainly, he hated being removed from his uniform and placed in the too-tight red jacket and oversized red hat which he felt made him look ridiculous. And more than anything did he hate having to conduct business in the presence of the little blonde Draculina whom he wanted more than anything to carve with his bayonets and send her to God.

But other than that, it wasn’t that bad.

Training the Wild Geese was far simpler than helping to raise some of the little kids at the Orphanage. God bless their little souls, Anderson cared for them, but he sorely needed a break from some of their antics.

Conversing with Sir Integra and assisting her in her duties was not at all out-of-place from helping the higher-ups at the Orphanage.

The most welcome bit of familiarity was being sent out into the field to kill vampires and ghouls. Much to his joyful surprise, those duties didn’t change. Outside of the Manor, and in the field, he was allowed to resume his carving-up of the legions of Hell just like he preferred.

Anderson even learned a bit of respect for Seras, as he saw that despite her vampiric nature, she kept herself under extreme control and never succumbed to her natural bloodlust. He still wanted to carve out her heart with a knife, but now he’d do so with a knowing nod and the knowledge that perhaps her soul would find a teeny bit of salvation in the afterlife.

When the week ended, Anderson was more than respectful to those who had been his coworkers for the past seven days, regardless of how he still felt about all of them.

Alucard and the Vatican officials had arrived at the door. Integra could tell from the look on his face that the past 168 hours had not been kind to the vampire. He stood at his full height, looking directly into Anderson’s eyes.

Without so much as a “Hello” or a “How was your week” or a “Go fuck yourself,” Alucard grabbed the hat off the top of Anderson’s head before placing it on his own.

“My hat.” Was the only thing he had to say to the Paladin, who otherwise offered some statement to the effect of having a newfound respect for the vampire and the rest of the Hellsing Organization.

As the Papists departed, Alucard looked at his master, who stared up at him expectantly.

“Well, Alucard? How was it?”

“That… Human, is stronger than I’ve ever thought.”


	11. Anderson x Depressed!Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know if the request thing is still open but could I request an Anderson x reader type thing of the SFW variety?if it is and if you are okay with that ? "
> 
> Thank you for requesting this and talking through what kind of scenario you wanted in particular! I hope this is to your enjoyment!

Some days were… Harder than others. Not always for a reason. Sometimes you just felt like this.

Today had been absolutely miserable. Nothing happened. But the crushing emptiness, the sadness, the self-hatred. It was too much. You hadn’t even left your room, not even when one of the orphanage’s nuns came in to check on you. They understood when you felt this way, you had explained your depression to them before. And they were always quick to say a prayer for you.

Anderson, your love, was away on a mission.

You didn’t always feel this way when he was gone, but it always made things so much harder to deal with. He’d been gone for three days by now. Why now? Why couldn’t you hold on until he got back? 

It was dark now. You lay curled up in your room in the staff building next to the orphanage. You hadn’t really bothered turning on any lights, you’d just slept most of the day away. You turned, looking at the little beside clock.

Half past nine at night. You hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t had a drink of water either. Your throat hurt. Crying all day without a drop to drink will do that.

But you just… Couldn’t.

The handle to the bedroom door rattled, a key turning in the lock. It’s probably just one of the nuns, coming to check on you one last time before bed. You heard the knob turn, the door swinging open slowly. You turned to see who it was, to tell them everything’s okay and that you don’t need anything, but…

There he was. Your shining paladin, the light of the moon reflecting off of his glasses, standing in the doorway with a tray of food and several glasses of water.

“Anderson?” You muttered. You hadn’t realized your throat was this sore. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Ah wasn’t due back fer anothe’ day, but Ah thou’ Ah’d… Hurry up.” He sets the tray on the mattress in front of you, crouching down next to your bed. “Tha sisters told me wha’ ye’ve been goin’ through today. Ah’m sorry Ah couldn’t be back sooner ta help.”

With that, he embraces you closely, gently running a hand through your hair. He starts praying quietly, as he always does when you’re having days like this. Asking for the light of the Lord to guide your path, to help you through this time of trial. It always helped, either from the prayer itself, or just hearing his lovely voice as he prays over you. You couldn’t help hugging him back. You really missed Anderson, always did whenever he went off to God-knows-where on duty to the Vatican.

But here he was, right now, his arms wrapped around you in a tight bear-hug as he continued to pray. After a few moments, he pulled away from the hug.

“Mah love, ye know Ah’ll always be here fer ye, don’t ye?”

You nodded. You knew he meant it, even though sometimes it was easy to forget that when you were having days like this.

“An’ Ah’ll do all in mah power as an agent o’ God to help ye feel better.” He hugged you tightly one more time, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Now, mah dear, please eat. Fer me. Ye haven’t had nary ae bit o’ food today.”

You thanked him, tucking into the meal he brought for you. It was your favorite, and always helped to make you feel a bit better when you were depressed.

The food was delicious, though your stomach still felt heavy. The relatively small meal still made you feel full. But you cleaned your plate, drained the several glasses of water. Anderson slid a chair beside your bed while you ate, and without a word stands up and moves the tray onto the end table next to the window.

As you lay back in bed, he continues to keep his loving vigil over you. He gently takes your hand as he knows you enjoy, and begins to hum a church hymn to help you sleep. You know he’s tired himself, but yet he still takes care to comfort you and make sure you’re okay.

While you begin to drift off to sleep, you quietly thanked God for giving you such a loving, adoring man to help you through this.


	12. Alucard x Bookwormmedz

Alucard had been called to a meeting with his master, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. There was no sign of urgency in her voice. It wasn’t an emergency.

That meant there was a new recruit in the Hellsing Manor. She always called him to introduce himself to recruits; it softened the eventual blow of learning that everything they learned as children was wrong. Vampires and werewolves and boogeymen roamed the night and the monster under the bed was quite real. He grinned - this was his favorite part. The initial look of complete shock and utter derealization on their faces brought a good sense of satisfaction to the vampire.

He could hear them talking through the wall. Sir Integra’s strong voice, deep, her British accent heavy to the ears. A second voice, a higher pitch, a different accent, sounding very excited.

Alucard grinned to himself as, rather than take the door, he pressed against the wall, body phasing through it slowly. He emerged into Integra’s office, an evil smile plastered across his face. Sir Integra smirked at him, and the figure seated in the chair turned to face him as Integra looked over as well. He was half embedded in the wall.

“Ah, Master, you’ve called upon my services once again?” He was hamming it up on purpose to get a rise out of the newcomer. Her face, rather than a look of abject terror, lit up as though she were a child receiving a new puppy for her birthday. Her audible gasp was followed by a rapid burst of dialogue, something about how “cool” he was and how excited she was to meet someone like him.

Who is this woman? Where did she come from?

She was the new bookkeeper. To be taught to work alongside Walter and Sir Integra in managing the day-to-day life around the Hellsing Manor. Not directly involved in combat, like the others. She wasn’t a rescue, like that blonde boy. She was recruited, the best in her field at what she did. Sir Integra told her up front the nature of the Hellsing Organization and those that it fought, and this woman still took the job with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

Medinah. That was her name, as she told it to him.

After the introductions concluded, she had been put to work at once. Her work was impeccable, no doubt about that. Alucard had expected as much, since it had been Sir Integra’s decision to hire her in the first place. That wasn’t what surprised him about the woman.

No, no, what surprised him was her immaculate personality. She was too… Nice, he felt, for the Hellsing Organization. He had never met someone so unshakeable in the face of the supernatural before. At the news of Alucard’s fight in Belgium, she welcomed him back with the same chipper smile as always, as though he hadn’t just returned from a battle that was otherwise a complete shitshow. She was always encouraging to the other agents, giving them words of support and spiritual upliftment that had never been felt around the Manor. She took the predictions of the blonde soldier in stride, assuaging his concerns with a statement that everything would turn out okay in the end. Even when they’d returned from Cheddar, the blonde Draculina wrapped in a blanket in Alucard’s arms, Medinah had greeted the newly-turned vampire as though she were just another human joining the ranks.

Medinah’s seeming inability to be fazed by even the bleakest, most dangerous situations was something that never occurred to the vampire to even be possible. Not for a human. Humans were supposed to be either frightened beyond the capacity for rational thought, or so angry and vengeful that they would lay down their lives to fight someone such as himself. And yet, before him, was a human who was neither of those things.

It fascinated Alucard. She had become a pillar of the morale of the Hellsing Organization, her frequent support, encouragement, and camaraderie with the other agents made her indispensable as an employee. He found himself keeping a close proximity to this woman, if anything out of a sense of curiosity. He had long since given up trying to catch her in a bad mood or feeling depressed, it simply wasn’t going to happen.

Alucard resolved to keep an eye her, to try and understand her unwavering spirit for himself. Perhaps there was something this human had to teach him that he, in all his nearly 600 years of life, still had yet to learn.


	13. Hellsing and Iscariot Headcanons (Gift for Bookwormmedz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Things you think each Hellsing and Iscariot Member would like about me? XD"
> 
> I understand you might have been joking, but you’ve been such a good friend since I met you that I couldn’t resist answering this one first.

Integra:

Definitely your honesty and genuine personality. You seem like someone she could trust which is something she needs in her life.

 

Alucard:

Respects your resolve. Your unwillingness to give up and embracing of whatever life gives you is impressive to him.

 

Seras:

Loves your chipper attitude and politeness, you remind her of herself.

 

Walter:

Respects the way you help and care for others, reminds him of the person he knows he should be.

 

Pip:

Wholeheartedly enjoys your sense of adventure, which meshes with the worldliness of a traveling mercenary like himself.

 

Father Anderson:

Is enamored by your spirituality and seeming willingness to consult or work with a higher power for support in your life.

 

Enrico Maxwell:

Jealous of the self-confidence you have, aspires to having that level of self-belief without others worshipping him.

 

Heinkel:

Admires your fighting spirit, like Alucard, she highly respects your refusal to submit to unfortunate circumstances.

 

Yumiko:

She likes your hair.


End file.
